


mirror my malady

by princetteofcats



Series: Wolf Like Me [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Halloween AU, Hanzo is broody but not overbearingly so, I also have no idea what to tag this honestly, I'd like to eventually do more with this AU, Idk it's an AU man, M/M, McCree is a sauve asshole, McHanzo - Freeform, Paranormal AU, So I guess it might be a, This was inspired by the Halloween 2016 comic, Werewolf Hanzo, Werewolf Hunter McCree, dark fantasy AU, i wonder how many werewolf fics have used lyrics from this same song for their titles too lol, idk man i'm so bad at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princetteofcats/pseuds/princetteofcats
Summary: “I show up where I’m needed, ma’am,” Jesse responded, flashing tooth as he gestured forward with his hat, “‘Specially when there’s trouble a-brewin’.”Jesse McCree is the man to call when there's supernatural trouble that needs taken care of. When he is summoned to Eichenwalde to rid them of the werewolf plaguing their woods, he finds himself up against something he's never encountered before, and that will change the course of his life forever.(This is honestly not nearly as serious as I've made it sound, I promise.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is what happens when [whensaturnrings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whensaturnrings) points out that McCree's outfit from the Halloween comic looks like some sort of Hellsing/werewolf-hunter get up, and I immediately link that to Hanzo's wolf skins. Plus, this pairing's fanbase seems pretty fond of werewolves and the like. So... why not contribute further to that?
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this. I'm also glad to finally contribute some fic to this fandom! Not that I've been working on other fic for it, or anything....
> 
> Anyway! Hope you guys enjoy. And feel free to drop me a line over on [Tumblr](http://enbyromeo.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat about anything.
> 
> Title is from "Wolf Like Me" by TV On The Radio. If that doesn't just scream "werewolf AU" then I don't know what does, tbh.

Jesse McCree had never been to Eichenwalde before, but he certainly felt like he had. The moment his boots hit the stone, he was reminded of the many desolate streets he had walked before, the plethora of boarded shop windows and tightly drawn curtains, all the hushed whispers and steely glares from terrorized town folk. Nothing surprising, nothing he hadn’t seen before. He chuckled to himself, smirking and tipping the brim of his hat as he passed by a particularly wary-looking shopkeep, the sky cold and grey above the mossy rooftops.

He found the inn easily enough with just the letter’s directions, alone, which was incredibly convenient, seeing as so much as looking at someone in this town seemed to be out of the question, much less asking where someplace was. Despite the drab, darkened stone of the inn (uniform with every other building in town), the place stood apart from the others, due mostly to the soft, inviting light that came from two lanterns hanging on either side of the main doorway. The sky rumbled with a roll of thunder, low and threatening in the distance. McCree pushed open the door without a thought.

Inside, the building was well-lit and warm. The stone walls were largely covered with tapestries and other hangings, in shades of royal blue and ruby red, and sets of matching rugs covered the majority of the worn, wooden floor. A roaring fire was off to one corner, a few chairs and tables drawn up beside it, though they remained unoccupied. To the other side of the room lay the entrance to a flight of stairs, presumably leading to the inn’s rooms. To the side of this entrance, in the center of the room and directly facing the main doorway, sat the main desk, behind which stood a young, dark-haired woman with a hard, even stare.

“Evenin’, miss,” Jesse greeted, tipping his hat before removing it. The young woman’s eyes narrowed.

“Can I help you?” she asked, tone clipped but not necessarily impolite.

“Nah, but I think I can help ya’ll,” Jesse grinned, taking a few more steps inside as he reached within his jacket. The young woman looked none too pleased with the approach and motion, and looked as if she might grab something from below the desk. She stopped, however, when Jesse withdrew nothing but a crinkled and slightly torn letter.

“You the Ana Amari that wrote me?” he asked, smiling still, as if he either didn’t know or didn’t care that she had nearly drawn a weapon on him. She was still for a brief moment more, eyeing the piece of paper with a keen, untrusting eye before she slowly turned, lifting her chin towards a doorway behind the counter.

“Mother,” she called, glancing to Jesse and holding his gaze as she continued, “Someone is here to see you.”

Jesse held her stare, even as he listened to the vague, muffled sound of a chair moving, fabric rustling, and steady footfall across the floor. The door opened to reveal another woman. She was much older, but Jesse could easily imagine that her white hair had once been as dark as her daughter’s, could match up the curves of their jaw and the set of their eyes. He placed the hand holding his hat over his chest and gave a curt nod. “Evenin’, ma’am.”

“You did show up, then,” she mused, the edge of her mouth quirking upwards in something that almost resembled a smile.

“I show up where I’m needed, ma’am,” Jesse responded, flashing tooth as he gestured forward with his hat, “‘Specially when there’s trouble a-brewin’.”

“And when there’s payment waiting for you,” scoffed the younger woman, eyebrow quirked and mouth set in a tight frown.

“Fareeha,” chided Ana, though the ghost of a smile still turned her lips up. Daughter glanced to mother, and the two held eyes for a long moment, before Ana turned to Jesse, smiling in a way that revealed nothing of her inner workings.

“I’ll go make some tea. Fareeha, show him a seat, won’t you?”

Ana left on quick, quiet feet, leaving Jesse and Fareeha staring at one another. The later looked incredibly unhappy at being tasked with such a thing, though not so much so that she refused. She begrudgingly paced around the desk, gesturing vaguely at the fireplace before crossing her arms. “Well. Pick a seat.”

“Mighty grateful for your hospitality, miss,” Jesse murmured, tone surprisngly genuine as he took a few long strides to a chair and lowered himself into it. The material was worn, but well-kept and comfortable. The faint scent of sandalwood and black tea clung to it.

“I don’t buy your gimmick, so you can stop trying to sell it to me,” Fareeha replied, voice cold and even as ice on stone. Jesse cracked his neck to one side and crossed his ankle over his knee, making himself comfortable, much to the quiet dismay of the other.

“I’m right sure that I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, miss,” Jesse replied, eyes focused on the fireplace as he continued to smile.

“You’re no hero,” came the low, serious reply, “I know what a real hero is. I see her everyday, am _reminded_ everyday of the sacrifices she made, for _justice,_ for what is _right._ Not for personal gain. My mother hunted monsters, not coins. You’ll never be like her.”

The silence that fell was thick and heavy, though Jesse seemed almost totally unaware of it. He looked nearly lost in watching the fire’s crackle, at the flames licking gently over the burning logs. He cracked his neck to the other side, shifting the strap of his crossbow and letting out a low chuckle.

“Everybody’s got their motivations, miss. I never claimed to have any but my own,” he shrugged, rubbing at the stubble on his chin as he continued to gaze into the fire, voice almost lulling, now, “I ain’t aimin’ to be anybody but myself.”

Fareeha might have continued, might have replied with something scathing, but Ana re-entered at just that moment, carrying a small, wooden tray with three mugs of tea on it. She smiled and handed one off to her daughter, patting it into her hands with a knowing, cool smile.

“Get the sheets folded for me, won’t you, Fareeha?”

“... Alright.”

She left without saying much else, leaving Ana to carry the tray over to where Jesse sat. He rose as she approached, pulling a chair over for her and accepting the cup she offered him. He waited until she had situated herself into her own seat before re-taking his own, holding the mug in one hand, by the rim. The two shared a brief smile and stare.

“You obviously read my letter, so you know why you’re here,” Ana eventually broke the silence, her tone pleasant and light, as she sipped her tea and looked to Jesse, who smiled in return.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, lifting his own cup to his lips, but not quite taking a sip as he continued, “‘Bout how long’s it been goin’ on for?”

“About four months,” Ana replied easily, warming her fingers at the side of her mug as she looked to the fire with her only visible eye. Jesse waited patiently for her to continue, finally taking his first drink and abruptly scalding his tongue. He tried his best not to make a face, but couldn’t help but catch the small exhale of almost-laughter that Ana gave at his expression. There was no hint of that fleeting mirth when she spoke, again.

“It is like clockwork. Every new moon, more people gone. The bodies, when found, are… gruesome. The town is in a panic.” Ana shook her head, looking down to her mug as she lifted it for another drink. Jesse pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth in an attempt to soothe it before speaking again.

“Surprised ya didn’t ask me to come sooner,” he noted finally, looking at her with open curiosity as he continued, “Or that ya haven’t taken care of it, yerself. Not that I’m complainin’, ‘specially for the pay yer offerin’. Ma’am.”

“I have my reasons,” Ana replied in the same, easy tone from before, nursing her tea and electing not to further elaborate. Jesse nodded in return. His line of business tended to go smoother with fewer questions asked, anyway.

“You saw the woods on your way into town, yes?” she asked, strands of white peeking out from beneath the fabric on her head, partially obscuring the patch that covered one of her eyes. Jesse nodded and took another sip of tea, careful not to burn himself, this time. Ana continued, “Good. The moon is tonight. I’ll have your payment in the morning. Do you need to know anything else?”

Jesse took a long moment to ruminate on the slightly minty aftertaste of the tea before he placed the cup to the side. He exhaled and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee as he reached down to grab his hat from the floor.

“Just one,” he replied, grinning as he placed the hat back on his head, tilting the brim in Ana’s direction. “Tea’s nice ‘n’ all, but where’s a guy get himself somethin’ a lil stronger ‘round here?”

\- - - - -

The place Ana had directed him towards was small and out of the way, closer to the edge of town, where as the inn had been towards the center. The bar was made of wood, rather than stone, and while it was not in utter disrepair, it certainly looked as if it had seen better days. A crack of light that peeked out between a set of drawn curtains was the only indication that there was any life held within.

Jesse shook his head as he entered, ridding himself of the cold drizzle that had accompanied him on his walk. He tugged at the collar of his coat, straightening it before meandering over to a seat at the bar. He did not remove his hat, and watched as a few droplets fell from the brim to the counter. He looked up as the barkeep approached, asking gruffly what he could get him.

“Whiskey,” Jesse replied with a nod, resting his folded arms on the countertop as the barkeep went to fetch a glass and bottle. Idly awaiting his return, Jesse’s eye caught something; namely, another set of eyes. Directly beside him. _Looking_ at him.

Jesse cocked his head to the right, so as to better face the other person. He looked to be around Jesse’s age, with his raven-dark hair greying at the temples but his face not yet wrinkled. His clothing was dark and nondescript, or would have been, if it hadn’t looked so _odd._ Jesse hadn’t seen someone wear a robe like that before, at least not in public. The man eyed him evenly as he took a sip of his drink.

“You are not from around here,” the man finally noted. His tone was stiff, too formal, but not unkind. The words were held strangely in his mouth, as if he had to think a moment longer than usual before actually saying them.

“Neither are you, from the looks of it,” Jesse replied, quirking a brow. The quick fire earned him a short chortle from the other man, who took another sip of his drink to hide the smile creeping onto his face.

“A fair retort.”

The two were silent for a moment, exchanging glances as the barkeep approached again. Once Jesse received his drink and took a long first sip, he turned to face the other man more fully, swirling his glass as he spoke.

“M’name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. What’s yours?”

The other man was quiet for a beat too long, opting to look down at his cup instead of at the other. Jesse nearly remarked on it, but was cut off prematurely by the man suddenly looking up and meeting his eye as he answered, simply, “Shimada Hanzo.”

“Mm,” Jesse hummed, taking another sip from his glass, letting it linger by his mouth as he noted, “You _really_ ain’t from ‘round here, with a name like that.”

“I am not from here, no,” Hanzo replied carefully, not lowering his gaze as he took another drink, “So, already, we have common ground.”

“S’pose you’re right,” Jesse laughed, one hand reaching up to scratch at his scruff before continuing, “Ya been here long, then?”

“It has been a while,” Hanzo shrugged. Jesse was beginning to be impressed with the other man’s ability to maintain eye contact. “Are you planning to stay long, as well?”

“Not if I can help it,” Jesse chuckled, taking a drink. This seemed to make Hanzo thoughtful. He turned his head to the side, and Jesse found himself mimicking the motion without quite realizing it.

“A shame,” was all Hanzo said, smiling cooly and finally taking his eyes away from Jesse, looking out over the sparse crowd as he ran a finger over the rim of his cup.

“Is it?” Jesse asked, gesturing vaguely towards the lack of people as he continued, “Doesn’t really seem like the liveliest of places. Or happiest, for that matter.”

“Some quiet is good,” Hanzo replied, voice a tad softer, eyes somewhat distant. The words, simple as they were, gave Jesse a rare moment of pause that he could not quite explain. Hanzo’s smile, thin and polite, brought him back from the brief reverie.

“Guess I won’t argue with that,” Jesse replied after a beat, knocking back the rest of his drink in a quick, efficient movement. He set the glass on the countertop with a soft _thunk,_ then gestured to the small cup and bottle that Hanzo had in front of him. “What’re you drinkin’, there?”

“Sake,” he replied, watching Jesse with an unreadable expression, “Would you like to try some?”

“Yeah,” Jesse replied, nodding. He watched with vague fascination as Hanzo worked with deft, quick movements, pouring him a cup and extending it in offering. Jesse accepted, even though the tiny cup felt ridiculous between his calloused fingers.

“Thanks,” he nodded, again, before drinking it in a single swig. It was dry and clear, burning only once it hit the back of his throat, leaving behind the ghost of a fruity, almost too-sweet taste in its wake. Jesse blinked and looked down at the cup, arching his brows before handing it back to Hanzo, “Not bad.”

“I have had better, myself, but I make due,” Hanzo remarked, his smile quirking to the side as he gave a short, dry laugh, pouring himself another cup and taking it between his hands, pondering over it quietly.

“Maybe there’s better stuff somewhere else,” Jesse posed, the alcohol humming pleasantly in his chest. He smiled, watching from the corner of his eye as the barkeep took his glass, raising his index finger to indicate that he’d like another. Hanzo looked up from his cup, and Jesse couldn’t help but notice the tinge of pink in his face, set in odd contrast with the even look of his eyes. Jesse took the refilled glass that the barkeep placed in front of him, swirling it thoughtfully and gesturing to Hanzo as he added, “Y’could go ‘n’ look, if the quiet ever gets too old for ya.”

Hanzo was still for a long, long moment. Hanzo looked almost painfully thoughtful before glancing over the crowd again, his mouth falling into a small, contemplative frown as he replied, “Yes. Perhaps.”

Jesse was posed to say something more, his mind a handful of steps ahead, working over the possibility of offering his own company for such a venture. But, before he could properly respond, Hanzo looked to him with eyes that were surprisingly clear, given how much he must have had to drink in order to get the faint flush that dusted his cheeks. He smiled before downing the rest of his drink and standing, nodding at Jesse.

“It was nice to meet you, Mister McCree. But, I need to leave, now.”

It took him a moment, but Jesse nodded, flashing a standard, bright smile and tipping his hat in response. “‘Course, Shimada. Thanks for the drink. And the company.”

“My pleasure,” Hanzo replied, in a way that made Jesse think that maybe he wasn’t saying it just to be polite.

“I wouldn’t mind doin’ it again,” Jesse murmured before he could stop himself, giving them both a moment of pause. Jesse, realizing his brashness but not quite ashamed of it, laughed and flashed a smile, hoping for the best. It took Hanzo a moment but, eventually, he gave a smile of his own in return. It was crooked. Genuine.

“Goodbye, Mister McCree,” he said softly, bowing his head curtly before heading away, leaving a handful of coins on the counter and seemingly unfazed as he walked into the now-steady rainfall. It took Jesse a solid minute to tear his eyes away from the shut door and back to his glass. Without thinking better of it, he knocked back the entire drink, rubbing at his lips with the back of his prosthetic hand, shaking his head as he drew it away.

“I’ll be damned,” he chuckled. If it weren’t for being on such a tight deadline, he’d have had half a mind to follow him, to continue the conversation he had found himself so oddly invested in. But, as it was, he had other matters to attend to. He placed a few coins of his own on the countertop and stood, adjusting his hat and collar as he left the smoky, lamp-lit interior of the bar.

Outside, the rain clouds were placed just far enough apart from one another so as to show the rising moon, full and bright against the hazy, bruise-purple sky of the coming night. Jesse adjusted the strap of his crossbow before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and heading towards the edge of the woods, thinking to himself that the pay for this would surely be more than enough to afford a bottle of weird, fruit-sweet liquor.

\- - - - -

The whiskey had kept him warm for a while, but even it wasn’t enough to fend off the combined chill of the night and the rain, at least not indefinitely. Jesse felt the cold in his bones and the wet soaking through his boots, but he was not deterred; he had faced a simultaneous storm and hunt before, and would almost certainly do it again. He wasn’t the type to complain about something that so plainly came with the job description.

What he was the type to complain about was his own ineptitude. He’d been at the hunting game for years, now, ever since he was seventeen, and he took no small amount of pride in the extent to which his skills had been honed. Why, then, for the life of him, could he not properly track down this damn wolf?

At first, he had been a little excited by the prospect of a challenge, of a hunt more complicated than simply seeking and eliminating. He had diligently followed winding, scattered tracks, listened with a keen, patient ear for distant huffs and howls that never seemed to sound closer, no matter how sure he was that he was heading in the right direction. The thrill of the hunt had quickly become little more than unceasing frustration as he wound his way through the dense, dark trees, the moon silently judging him as it passed overhead.

The night wore on, cold and dark and fruitless, and Jesse had a scowl etched deep on his face as he pushed through a particularly thorny thicket of brush with his metal arm. He had half a mind to turn tail back into town, especially seeing as the night was nearly over, anyhow. He knew, though, that giving up wasn’t an actual option; even if his pride would have somehow allowed it, his pocketbook certainly wouldn’t have. Especially if he really did intend on finding a bottle of that sake junk--

A blur of motion and the sound of rustling leaves to his left had him spinning quick, loading and aiming his bow all in one motion. He saw a flicker of yellow eyes, set in a coat of snow-white fur, just before the creature darted away. Jesse, ever quick on his feet, followed on quick, heavy feet, actually catching sight of his prey as he pursued. He grinned wildly and raised his crossbow in front of himself, steady despite the jostle of his run, and took aim.

“Gotcha,” he whispered, just as he fired the shot.

He had been aiming for the head, for something clean and quick, but the wolf, lumbering and huge but still somehow fluidly quick in its motions, darted to the side at the last second. The bow, silver-tipped and gleaming in the few rays of now-sinking moonlight that could filter through the dense foliage above, struck the creature at the shoulder, causing it to fumble and howl in pain. Jesse, cursing under his breath, was able to draw closer and raise his weapon again. But, the wolf, now very frightened, was running more erratically, and he couldn’t get a clear shot.

“Dammit,” he growled, chasing after the beast with fierce determination. Despite its wound, he still wasn’t able to get in proximity for a proper shot; to make up for the speed it had lost, it had become unpredictable, darting side to side, between trees and under bushes. Jesse was confused as he continued to give chase. Every werewolf he had ever gone after had stood and fought, usually with a great deal of viciousness; why was this one trying to give him the slip, instead?

Jesse rounded a tree with a grunt of effort and finally saw a moment of opportunity. With no hesitation, he shot again, this time hitting his target in the flank. The wolf stumbled, again, and fell, letting out pained, almost terrified-sounding yowl as Jesse approached, breathing a bit too hard but grinning triumphantly.

“‘Fraid it’s the end of the line for ya, big guy,” he chuckled, pace slowing to a walk as he neared the wolf. It really was an enormous creature, and the thought crossed Jesse’s mind that it was almost _regal._ Its fur was completely white, aside from the deep, ruby red pooling at the entrances to either wound. Its eyes were wide and yellow, locked onto him as it shifted and growled at his approach. They were not, however, unhinged; in fact, nothing about the creature was quite as _wild_ as he had come to expect from werewolves.

Puzzled and somewhat unnerved, Jesse paused a few feet away from the wolf, glancing down to his readied bow but not lifting it, not yet. For a long moment, he and the creature exchanged a look that felt almost familiar. Had Jesse hunted this wolf before, maybe? He frowned a little, certain that that couldn’t be the case; he’d killed every last wolf he’d met. Why, then, was he almost _certain_ that he had seen these eyes somewhere else?

“Ya put up a good fight,” he commended in a quiet, low tone, blinking slowly as he considered the wide eyes staring back at him. The wolf, distraught but apparently unable to flee again, growled, low and deep and scared. It snapped as Jesse took another step forward, teeth bared in a gleaming snarl. It was more in warning than anything, though; it did not lunge forward with the bite, did not swipe at him with one of its giant claws. In fact, it did not seem to want to hurt him so much as it wanted to be left alone.

For a brief, delirious moment, Jesse considered letting it go. It felt wrong, almost, to gun down something so vulnerable. He hunted monsters, after all; to kill something that was lying practically belly-up, not even putting up an actual fight, just didn’t feel right. He pulled himself from the strange, intrusive thought with the reminder that, despite its current state, this wolf was not harmless, nor free of guilt. It had killed people. And it would do it again if he didn’t stop it.

“I’m sorry, big guy. It’s just business,” he murmured, raising his bow slowly, taking aim at its chest. The wolf, distraught, let out a low, mournful howl, trying in vain to move away. Jesse paused, again, but did not lower his weapon. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his finger curling around the trigger of his bow as he reminded himself that he had lives to save and a paycheck to earn. Right on time, too; a gleam of morning sun, bare and weak and orange, filtered through the clouds and foliage above, glinting off the tip of his arrow.

That same ray of light, dampened by rain and barely more than a hint of sun, hit the wolf’s eyes, making them flash and shimmer. Jesse hesitated, confused and curious at the tricks the light played. Only, it wasn’t a trick; the way that the wolf’s form began to shift, glowing with a strange, white-yellow magic and a gust of sudden wind, was entirely too real. Jesse’s mouth gaped, his posture faltering as he took a step back, lowering his crossbow and reaching up to keep his hat from flying away in the commotion. His voice was barely a breath when he whispered, “What in the _hell--?_ ”

The light grew brighter, so bright that Jesse had to shield his eyes from its intensity. With a flash and a final flourish of wind, the otherworldly light was gone, leaving nothing but weak, morning sunlight to illuminate what was left in its wake; a man, soaking wet and bleeding heavily.

It took a handful of too-long moments for Jesse to recognize the shivering figure that lay in front of him, for his brain to connect the pained scowl he saw now with the distant, lonely look of the man from the bar. He shook his head when he finally realized, blinking rapidly, as if to assure himself that his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Wolves changed, sure, but every were that he had ever encountered had _never_ been so _human_ when they shifted. Hell, by the time he was usually called in, it meant that things were critically desperate, that they were now beasts beyond saving, thrust beyond the limits of their own humanity and into the void of perpetual bloodlust. This, though….

“Shit,” he cursed, gritting his teeth and fumbling with his coat as he approached and knelt beside the other man. He slung his crossbow over his shoulders before placing his coat over him, chiding him when he flinched, tried to pull away, to speak. “Hush, now. Save yer energy.”

Hanzo let out a low, unhappy noise that sounded almost like a groan. Jesse’s chest tightened, and he peeked beneath the coat he had just laid over him, checking the wounds he had inflicted. He grimaced at the sight. He wasn’t a renowned shot for nothing; the arrows were in deep, and the silver had already begun to do its work, poison leeching into his skin, making it gray-purple and sick looking. Jesse cursed again and wrapped his coat tight around the other, trying to defend his already frail body against the biting, wet chill of the dawning morning.

“Why…?”

Jesse looked to Hanzo’s face, brow furrowed and lips parted to chastise the other again for speaking. He paused at the surprisingly sober, intense look that was leveled at him, however. Any weakness that colored the tone of Hanzo’s voice was more than made up for by the strength in his eyes. Jesse shook his head, to show that he didn’t understand what was being asked. Hanzo grimaced and groaned again, curling in on himself, words coming in a stutter, but with obvious effort put into their clarity.

“Why… are you drawing it out? Just… kill me. Do it. I… I am too tired… for games….”

If Jesse had been confused before, he was absolutely fucking flabbergasted, now, and it showed plain on his face. “What the hell do ya mean?” he asked bluntly and without thinking, shaking his head again and gesturing at Hanzo’s body, “I ain’t gonna kill ya when you’re like this. Just ‘cause I hunt monsters doesn’t mean I am one.”

“N-no, not a monster, j-just... a fool,” Hanzo whispered, the ghost of a bitter laugh parting his lips. He cringed and folded in on himself, obviously very much in pain. His voice was bereft when he spoke, but in a way that seemed like it was caused by something much deeper than the pierce of an arrow, “What, then? Will you just… wait? Until I hurt someone, _again…_? Y-You can end this now. Just… _do it. Please._ ”

Jesse was still for only a moment, his mind racing, filling with a million thoughts that he neither dwelled upon nor completely followed through on. Amidst the gathering chaos in his head, the only thing he was entirely certain of was that he was going to keep Hanzo alive, the consequences of that be damned. This single thought was the force that drove him to finally lean forward and scoop the bleeding, broken man up in a quick, fluid gesture, much to the protest of said man.

“I said--”

“I heard what ya said,” Jesse interrupted, shifting Hanzo’s weight into a more secure hold before he began walking, eyes set dead ahead, “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it.”

“It is your duty,” Hanzo whispered, though his tone was as hard and bitter as before, “You cannot refute it.”

“Only duty I’ve got it my own,” Jesse replied cooly, “I don’t answer to nobody but myself.”

Hanzo was quiet for a long moment, his brows drawing together pensively. He was shivering, still; Jesse could feel the small, weak convulsions of his body. They reminded him that he needed to move quickly; silver worked fast.

“What do you even… even intend to do?” Hanzo finally asked, sighing deeply halfway through his sentence and allowing his eyes to close, succumbing to the fatigue that plagued his body.

“I _intend_ to get ya fixed up right again,” Jesse chuckled, picking up his pace as he became increasingly familiar with the trees they were surrounded by, “So, lemme take care of that, alright?”

A low, dull hum was all that Jesse got in response. That was as good an affirmation as any. He cocked a grin and continued moving forward with increasing speed.

\- - - - -

“This isn’t what I meant, when I asked you to take care of this,” Ana noted dully, looking at Jesse from the side, her mouth a thin, unamused line.

“I figured as much, ma’am,” he replied, brushing at his hair with his fingers as he stood to the side, watching her carefully replace each piece of medical equipment she had used, right back into the exact same spot in her chest that she had taken it from.

“Did you know?” he asked, tone a bit lower, eyes a little harder. The silence that stretched between them was long and thin.

“I had my suspicions,” Ana finally replied, quickly shutting the latches of her case and hauling it up from the bedside table. The noise of wood on wood, loud as it was, did not seem to disturb the figure that laid beneath the sheets, freshly bandaged and re-clothed. Jesse tried not to let this worry him and, instead, turned his focus fully to Ana.

“I couldn’t just kill him like that,” Jesse implored, shaking his head, “He wasn’t even fightin’ me. All my years at this, I ain’t ever seen a monster act that way.”

“Monsters act in many ways,” Ana replied, in a tone one might use to state that the sky was particularly cloudy that day. Jesse frowned at her, and she looked back at him with an even, steady stare that he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“How can ya be certain it was him doin’ all this?” Jesse asked.

“In all _my_ years doing this,” Ana began, the bite in her tone nearly venomous, “I’ve learned to take note, to study patterns, and, most importantly of all, to trust in my instincts.”

“Well, frankly, I have, too, ma’am,” Jesse growled, eyes narrowing and his metal hand clenching into a fist at his side, “And my instincts said that it’d be _wrong_ to kill him. They _still_ say it.”

“And you’ve made that very clear,” Ana replied, a tad quieter than before. Her gaze revealed nothing, even as the two exchanged another long moment of silence. Jesse was the one to break their stare, finally, shaking his head and turning to catch a glance at the deeply sleeping Hanzo.

“What’re ya gonna do with him?” Jesse asked, tone softer, now. He didn’t look to Ana, even as she began to reply.

“Once the townfolk hear what’s happened and know what he is, it won’t be me he’ll need to worry about.”

Jesse said nothing. He had an urge to reach out and stroke a strand of hair away from the man’s face, but he stopped himself before actually following through. Ana’s voice was steady, purposefully lacking in strong emotion as she continued.

“They’ll want him gone, so that they can feel safe in the streets, again.”

Ana and Jesse’s eyes met, again. This time, the wordless exchange was brief, and both of their faces not quite so unreadable. Ana ended it, this time, by hauling her chest at her side and taking a few steps towards the door, pausing by Jesse as she passed him. She reached beneath her shawl and withdrew a sachet, woolen and heavy, and pressed it into Jesse’s flesh hand, saying nothing as she did so.

“... I didn’t do the job,” Jesse muttered, quiet and cold.

“Not yet,” Ana replied, in much the same manner. She did not elaborate before shutting the door behind herself, leaving Jesse looking down at the bag of coin for a long, long time. When he finally looked up from it, it was to look again at the sleeping Hanzo, and did not look away from him until much, much later.

\- - - - -

“You hear about Eichenwalde?”  
“Yeah, yeah. They were having a real problem. Heard it was a werewolf.”  
“For real?”  
“Yeah. They had to call in a hunter and everything.”  
“I don’t believe in any of that shit.”  
“Well, you should.”  
“Yeah. Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it won’t kill you.”  
“That’s just fucking stupid.”  
“Yeah, you are.”

The laughter and bickering that continued to come from the group of folk in the corner had Jesse grinning as he sipped his drink. The whiskey was warm in his chest, slowly but surely beating out the cold that had settled deep in his bones as they had hiked into Volskaya. Funny enough, the weather didn’t seem to bother his companion. Hanzo was stoic and calm as ever, even when trekking through knee-deep snow.

“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” asked the barkeep, setting down the glass she was wiping as she approached. Jesse glanced to Hanzo, who looked to him calmly as he tipped back the last bit of his own drink, also a whiskey. 

“Yeah,” Jesse nodded, turning to look at the woman and tilting his hat as he grinned, “You got any sake?”

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I've kind of fallen in love with this AU. If you all would like more, I guess just let me know ?? I'd definitely be into exploring these two getting into shenanigans and getting to know each other better.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! <3


End file.
